I originally wrote and shared this post in 2010. I was thinking about this post when I wrote the Santa one this past week, (and then my second Santa post!) then my friend Kari found and read it while looking for info on my brother Mark (but not in that stalker-ey way) so I’m re-blogging it because frankly, it cracked ME up and I wrote it. I recall that when I shared this, my Mom died laughing too. Just to be clear, The cancer killed her, not my witty-as-hell blog post.

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My Brother and I certainly were not spoiled or even overly-attended-to children. I can’t say we were abused or neglected. But maybe there’s a version of that: Neglect Light? Unattended But Loved? Raise Yourselves, I’m tired? But it all changed when Christmas came. Along with Santa, came my Grandparents {my Dad’s parents} they loaded up their car in Miami with as many games & toys as they could fit in their trunk and back seat and spent each Christmas with Mark and I. Mind you, my parents were divorced and they chose to spend Christmas with my Mom, their ex daughter in law; they adored my Mom, Mark (of course Mark!) & I. Those few days of attention and fun were what we craved terribly.

One year I recall them opening the trunk and all I saw were two huge plastic garbage cans with lids on them. They were so clever, they knew my Mom needed new cans and inside them were all of our wrapped gifts. That takes Oscar the Grouch to another level.

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My very first Christmas. I looked a little scared, but I had no idea what was to come in the future. I should have climbed back into Beverly’s lady kitchen and hunkered down because these people might be insane. And in case you’re wondering, no, we didn’t want ANY ONE else to have tinsel, we we took it all.

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I must have been around 4 here. G’ma is trying to help Mark and I find our way through the bazillion gifts; I am lost, confused, and beginning to go into shock.  It looks like 12 kids live here. Also, being a NOT spoiled child, I was gifted a rescue siamese kitten this year, she’s on the rocking chair. Chrissy; oh I adored her. She was my constant companion until her untimely death 7 years later. We really can’t have nice things.

Please note the fire safety hazards: The brown electric heater in front of the fireplace loaded with paper, a bottle of whisky and the ashtray filled to high heaven on the coffee table. I’m certain there was a can of gas lurking under the couch. 

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Mark and I Christmas Eve {Suz 6?} That is my G’pa in the background; gosh, I loved him so much. I bet you a million dollars he was playing solitaire and smoking cigarettes in one of those weird filter thingys.

Now, look at that tree above again. Is it just me or does it look like Helen Keller was in charge of the garland application?

Christmas morning: Mark has bed head and I look perfect. Probably because I didn’t sleep all night; when the adults were knee deep into the rum balls I found a liter of coke in the kitchen and consumed it. The liquid soda! I didn’t do real coke until 4th grade. KIDDING. I’m holding my doll Cindy.  Right now Cindy is in my hall closet wearing a one-shoulder nightgown and suffering from a severely bad haircut, thanks to my Brother. Pogo Sticks: because breaking your ankles should be more action packed. Check out the typewriter on the floor, it had windows 5.

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When I got older, there were fewer gifts. Heck, I was not even allowed to open this ONE gift without performing first. I look traumatized, whose idea was this? BTW: This was in the haunted AF townhouse.

I am guessing this is a wrapped bottle of Jim Beam.  Thanks Mom.

My how times have changed. There is no smoking, electric heaters or tinsel at our house, but my girls will each get a box of wine this year along with bedazzled/personalized shanks.

Ok, maybe it has not changed that much.

xoxo